


fake diamonds are a boy's best friend

by parrishes_and_pitches



Series: one-word prompts [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz Thirsting, Confessions, Crack but With Heart, Dessert Thievery, Fake Proposals, Fluff, M/M, Mild Fraud, One-Word Prompts, Post-Canon, Proposals, Slightly crack??, Sort Of, but honestly what else is new, i think confession is a bit of a stretch for this piece but WHATEVER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrishes_and_pitches/pseuds/parrishes_and_pitches
Summary: “what the hell did you mean, then? what other sort is there?”“the fake sort.”baz sighed. “what are you on about, snow?”“i mean, what if i fake-proposed to you to get us a free dessert?”simon and baz take the restaurants of london by storm with a series of fake proposals, one objective in mind: to score some free desserts.





	fake diamonds are a boy's best friend

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back, back, back.
> 
> hi friends!! i feel like it's been FOREVER since i've posted a fic, but at long last! a fic!! i'm SUPER EXCITED to share this one with you all. it's a little different than what i am usually inclined to write, but i decided i would try for something a little more comedic and light-hearted!
> 
> this wasn't originally supposed to be part of my one-word prompts series, but i just happened to get the prompt "snowbaz- confession" and i thought this concept fit into that rather nicely, so here we are. for more details about this series, see the end notes!
> 
> without any further ado, the fic! enjoy!

when baz first started dating simon snow, he had expected that they would eventually come to found certain traditions together. baz didn’t think this was so unreasonable. traditions were a natural result of any relationship. but he had expected things like giving each other flowers every anniversary or going out to the cinema whenever one of them had a bad day. normal couple things.

if he was being honest, he knew he should have realized that their relationship attaining anything near normalcy was a pipe dream. but oh, what a dream it was.

it hadn’t been his idea. of course the idea had been simon’s. only simon could come up with something that somehow managed to be completely idiotic and utterly genius at the same time. it was ideas like these that made baz wonder what it was like in simon’s head. he usually imagined it as a thunder-dome of bad ideas. but every now and then, something like this would come along, and he would be made to question if his theory was disproved or validated.

the idea came about on a lovely summer evening over dinner, one that didn’t initially seem like it would be anything special. baz had picked the restaurant himself, unwilling to trust simon to pick anything nice. he thought he had chosen rather well. the hole-in-the-wall italian bistro was small, intimate, with warm cream-colored walls patched with exposed brick and untamed vines blooming with little pink flowers. the place took on a dream-like quality with its soft candlelight and faint piano music in the background. it had a general conductivity for fantasizing. sitting at a small table in the corner of the dining room with simon, baz could almost imagine himself as the protagonist of one of those just-slightly overdramatic romantic comedies he pretended to hate.

baz had suggested the outing in the hopes that the dinners would become their tradition. he saw it as a monthly excuse to romance simon properly. take him somewhere nice they didn’t usually have occasion to go to, buy him a nice dinner. all the things baz used to imagine he would do once he had a boyfriend. once he had simon. it was how simon deserved to be treated, and how baz deserved to treat him after years upon years of pining. in a way, the outings did end up becoming tradition, but dinner was never the main event.

as baz chatted idly with simon over a couple glasses of wine, a commotion arose from the other side of the dining room. baz turned to find a young gentleman down on one knee, a little velvet box in hand, and the young woman before him screeching like a banshee.

“crowley,” baz said, watching the couple, “that woman has a set of lungs on her, doesn’t she?”

“no kidding,” simon said. he looked lovely enough that evening to distract baz in an instant. the candle on the table between them made his skin glow quite handsomely, and those blue eyes of his almost never left baz’s face, which baz very much enjoyed. the dark red of his shirt complimented his natural color scheme in a way that baz could not afford to dedicate too much attention to, unless he wished to be lost for the rest of the evening to staring wordlessly and trying not to drool.

“you know,” baz said, tracing the rim of his wine glass, “i don’t understand public proposals. what if they said no? how embarrassing would that be?”

“you don’t understand them because you’re a pessimist, darling.”

“while that is true, i don’t know if i would say that’s the pessimism talking.”

“then it’s because you’re an overthinker.”

baz tapped the side of his nose. “that’s it.”

simon took a thoughtful sip of wine. it had taken baz an inordinate amount of time to get it into simon’s skull that wine was to be sipped, not _gulped._ “i think they’re romantic.”

baz curled his lip ever so slightly. he didn’t think of simon as much of a fan of romance. “really? what if you were proposed to by someone in front of a million people and you had to be the cruel soul that said ‘hmm, no thank you,’ and crushed his dreams?”

“’crushed his dreams—‘” simon punctuated the words with air quotes—“sounds a bit extreme.”

“either way, you’re interrupting the day of everyone around you.”

“i think you’re being dramatic, baz.”

“i am never dramatic. i’m being… _pragmatic_.” baz gave a flourish of his hand that he knew suggested otherwise, but he couldn’t help himself.

“so i suppose that time you set the forest on fire and nearly killed yourself, you were being pragmatic?”

baz shot him a cool look. “you just love bringing that up, don’t you.”

“it is a fond memory, yeah. but that’s beside the point.” simon nodded toward the couple, now tearfully embracing. baz couldn’t be sure who was crying harder, the woman, the man, or the elderly lady sitting behind them who had become far too invested in their romance during the last minute or so. such a scene they were making. baz thought it was all quite unnecessary. “this just made my night ten times more interesting,” simon said.

“ah, i see.” baz examined his nails. “so i’m not interesting enough for you.”

simon faltered. “i—” baz smirked and enjoyed watching him flounder for a moment. the novelty of getting simon worked up still hadn’t worn off, and baz always felt a sense of satisfaction when he found that he could still do so rather effortlessly. “you know that wasn’t what i meant.”

“i do. only teasing.”

“you’re the worst.”

“and yet, you stay with me anyway.”

simon sighed, as if he couldn’t imagine why. “yes, i do.”

baz, gratified, returned his gaze to the happy couple across the room. they seemed to have completely lost awareness of their surroundings, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, or however a romance novelist might have described it. love and happiness radiated off the pair in such bounds baz swore he could smell it. it was nauseating. the commotion had died down by then, but he took notice of a waitress making her way over to them with a plate of tiramisu.

simon had also cast his gaze over in the couple’s direction, though baz knew he had probably honed in on the dessert rather than them. predictable as ever, simon said, “that looks good.”

“it’s probably complimentary,” baz replied.

“why?”

“it’s a thing restaurants do. to congratulate the happy couple and so on.” baz twirled his finger in a circle, like _whoop de doo._ the flame of the candle between them danced with the gesture.

“really?” simon kept his eyes on the couple, but baz knew he held his attention as much as they did.

“yeah,” he said, rather than teasing simon like he might have done a year ago. back then, baz might have thought simon’s ignorance of this sort of thing to be a result of him being thick. and while simon was still thick, baz knew now that he had never really had occasion to go to these sorts of restaurants before they’d started dating. part of the package of living most of one’s life in an orphanage, baz supposed. so, baz did not tease, no matter how much he wished to. “it’s typical for birthdays,” he continued, “anniversaries, things like that. things to be celebrated.”

“i want tiramisu,” simon mumbled, indignant. he was pouting slightly, which made baz think of a sad puppy. the idea was endearing. (and strangely appetizing, a notion which baz elected to ignore. intrusive thoughts such as these were the true curse of vampirism.)

“we can order some after dinner, love.”

“yeah, but we’d have to pay for it.” baz could almost see his ears drooping.

“that’s not an issue,” baz replied, amusement underlying his words.

simon didn’t respond any further, clearly giving something or another a great deal of thought. perhaps he was weighing the merits of whether it would be worth it to pay for a dessert. baz let the lull in conversation happen, taking a slow sip of his drink while he waited for simon to get a handle on his words again.

“what if i proposed to you?” simon asked.

baz choked on his wine. “ _what_?”

simon’s face twisted in concern as baz coughed. _he bloody well should be concerned,_ baz thought viciously. he’d nearly given baz a heart attack, after all. (baz wasn’t entirely certain he _could_ have a heart attack, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if he ended up being the first vampire in history to do so. he would have been even less surprised if simon snow had caused the first cardiac event in a vampire.) simon reached across the table and gripped his shoulder. “are you alright?”

baz took a moment to catch his breath, then another to gather his thoughts. he steepled his fingers and proceeded with some caution. “simon. darling. you know i love you. but we’ve been dating for a _year._ ”

simon’s hand fell back to his side once he was sure baz would not, in fact, keel over dead. “nearly two, but yeah. and?”

“ _and_ , though i am flattered, such a short amount of time after seven years of trying to kill each other seems a bit rushed, don’t you think?”

simon furrowed his brows. “i didn’t mean like a serious proposal.” he said it like this was the obvious conclusion to be drawn from his question.

“what the hell did you mean, then? what other sort is there?”

“the fake sort.”

baz sighed. “what are you on about, snow?”

“i mean, what if i fake-proposed to you to get us a free dessert?” simon leaned forward, precariously close to the candle. baz was momentarily concerned that his shirt might be set ablaze, which would have been a shame. it was a very nice shirt.

baz stared at him for a long moment. “are you drunk? i can’t tell if you’re being serious, or—”

“i’ve had one glass of wine, baz. not that much of a lightweight.” baz snorted, and simon scowled in response. “of course i’m being serious.”

“why in the name of merlin would you do that?”

“free. dessert,” simon said, in an _are you stupid_ sort of tone that baz thought was very much directed at the wrong person in this conversation.

“it’s not as if we can’t pay for a dessert, snow.”

“i know, but why should we pay for it when the opportunity to get it for free is right there?”

baz raised an eyebrow, considering. he _did_ enjoy thinking himself pragmatic, no matter how inaccurate the term was in describing him, and simon’s logic was recklessly so. “now i’m interested.”

“you weren’t interested before?”

“i was too shell-shocked to be interested. but now you have my attention.”

“good. always a nice thing to have.”

“you do realize you’re essentially suggesting we commit fraud?” baz asked.

simon shrugged. that infernal shrug.

“i’m surprised the thought doesn’t have you going into conniptions. you, o saint of a hero who can do no wrong.”

“i’m not a hero,” simon said, continuing over baz’s attempt at arguing, “besides, that’s not me. if anyone were to go into conniptions about this, it’d be penny.”

he had a point.

“it’s just dessert,” simon said, leaning farther forward conspiratorially. at least he had the good sense to push the candle out of shirt-burning range. “if it were lying about your death for the insurance money, then that’s another thing.”

“that seems an awfully specific example, snow. should i be worried?”

simon tilted his head. “no. if i did that, i’d share the money with you.”

“i think i would have plenty of other reasons to be concerned, but i’m touched.” baz couldn’t believe he was legitimately considering the idea. but, then again, simon had a tendency of making baz think of things he wouldn’t under normal circumstances. “well, if you wanted to do it right now, i’m afraid your timing would be a little insensitive. i’d hate to steal the banshee’s thunder.”

“i wouldn’t do it now,” simon said, again with that tone that made baz recall the age-old desire to throttle him. “i don’t even have a ring. who proposes without a ring?”

baz regarded him. the delicate curve of his lips, his curls that he had only partially tried to tame for their outing, his eyes alight with the dawn of a new idea. he wondered if perhaps that pretty face of his was clouding his own judgement. “remind me why i love you?”

simon propped his chin in the palm of his hand, the smug smile that stole across his face reminding baz of their watford days. “because i know how to have fun.” he hefted his glass of wine in his unoccupied hand, tilting it slightly forward in invitation. “next time?”

it was stupid and entirely pointless. baz didn’t think he could have come up with something more dumb if he tried.

but it was a chance at the tradition baz craved. maybe not quite the tradition he had expected, but a tradition nonetheless. it was a chance to create something long-lasting with simon. some proof that this relationship was real, would continue to be real. it was no longer an impossibility or a fantasy, but something he could touch, taste, feel deep in his bones. and, hell, if it took something this idiotic to remind himself of that, then so be it.

it pained baz to admit it, but simon was right about one thing: he did know how to have fun. baz figured that, if no tradition ended up coming from this, he’d at least enjoy watching simon publicly humiliate himself. that still hadn’t lost its entertainment value after so many years.

baz picked up his glass and clinked it carefully against simon’s. “next time.”

* * *

_next time_ entailed far too much trial and error for baz’s liking.

simon and baz had elected to return to the same restaurant the following month to scam their way into a free dessert. (“’scam’ is a little harsh, baz. don’t make me feel bad about this.”) baz had figured that returning to a place they were already familiar with would work in their favor. here, the familiarity would be comforting, and they could afford to be confident in the assumption that their little stunt would be rewarded in kind.  

before they departed from their flat, simon showed baz the velvet ring box with a grin. when he opened it, baz examined the ring with an arched brow. it was a simple silver band, nothing more, and it was clearly cheap. baz didn’t necessarily have a problem with the latter. anybody who didn’t suspect that the ring was fake would never have circumstance to look more closely. and yet…

“what?” simon asked, noting baz’s slight frown.

“it’s so… plain.”

simon stared at him. “are you serious.”

“i have standards, love.”

“baz, it’s a _fake ring._ does it really matter?”

baz heaved a sigh. “i suppose not. i’m just partial to diamonds.”

“i’ll keep that in mind next time i buy you a fake ring off the internet,” simon grumbled.

“please do.” baz took another skeptical look at the ring, then added, “also, next time you might be inclined to spend more than five pounds.”

“it was seven, actually.”

“oh, be still my beating heart. a whole seven pounds.”

simon shrugged and snapped the box shut, slipping it into the pocket of his pants. “let’s just go before you criticize any more of my choices.”

“oh, simon, you know i adore criticizing your choices,” baz said with a sneer, “but i suppose i can make time to critique your outfit in the car.”

“you got these clothes for me,” simon protested.

“and you put them together like that.” baz looped his arm through simon’s and pulled him close against his side. he slid his eyes over simon from head to toe. his gaze was partly appraising, partly delighting in how gorgeous simon looked in that slate gray sportscoat, which hugged his broad shoulders in _quite_ a flattering fashion. “it’s no problem, though. it’s not so bad that i can’t be seen in public with you.”

“wow,” simon said flatly. “thanks.”

“it’s a compliment, snow,” baz chided as he adjusted simon’s tie. “you’re getting better! now, stop griping and come on. we’re going to be late for our reservation.” simon, annoyed just to baz’s liking, followed him out the door and down to his car.

at dinner, baz found himself antsy with anticipation. earlier, baz had told simon to “pop the question” whenever he felt was best, so baz wasn’t sure when to expect it. he thought this would add a bit of realism, and it did, but now he was starting to regret the idea. with each passing minute, baz’s stomach twisted into a tighter and tighter knot.

after both had finished their dinners, simon reached across the table and took baz’s hand, which made his heart rate spike so ridiculously he felt the urge to press his other hand to his chest to calm it. _well,_ baz thought, _this is happening._

“baz,” simon said, “there’s been something on my mind recently.” he almost seemed nervous. either he was a much better actor than baz thought to give him credit for, or he and baz were in a similar state of mind. despite both knowing that this wasn’t real and that the stakes were incredibly low, there was a tension to it. the scene mimicked another reality, a different time in which maybe, just maybe…

“what is it, simon?” baz asked. it was a strange fight to keep his voice even. but he managed to portray a picturesque ignorance for the sake of their audience, which for now consisted of the two women sitting at the table next to them who had gone quite silent.

“i love you so much.” simon squeezed baz’s hand. in encouragement, baz returned the pressure. “and i can’t imagine a life without you. i don’t want to imagine it.”

suddenly baz had to hold back a snort of laughter. this proposal had been used almost word for word in some romantic comedy they’d watched a week before with the sole purpose of making fun of it. simon had ridiculed this proposal himself. he’d called it cheesy and could barely even get through the scene without visibly cringing. now he was stealing it verbatim and, admittedly, making it _work_. he was at least more convincing than the actor who had originally delivered it. though perhaps baz was letting his bias toward those irresistible blue eyes get in the way of logic. it wouldn’t be unlike him.

 _crowley, he’s an idiot,_ baz thought gratedly, mostly just to remind his slamming heart that this was all for show.

his efforts were in vain, though, because as simon slid from his chair and down onto one knee, the knot in baz’s stomach tightened so suddenly, he half expected to reel back as if he’d been dealt a blow. the sight alone was enough to forcibly evict the air from his lungs. simon hadn’t let go of his hand, but baz withdrew it from his grip to cover his mouth. it was a simple gesture to sell the illusion, but it also served to get a hold on the laughter that now threatened to spill out of baz’s mouth. he had no clue as to why he felt the need to, but he thought that it wouldn’t be the most convincing performance if he laughed in simon’s face as he was trying to propose.

simon withdrew the little velvet box from his pocket and flipped open the lid. he held it slightly aloft, as if in offering. “baz pitch,” he said, voice soft but not so soft that the other restaurant patrons who had started listening in couldn’t hear him, “will you marry me?”

 _damn,_ he was good at this.

baz couldn’t find any words. nothing came to mind that he could make convincing enough. of course, this wasn’t real, but being proposed to by simon snow in any capacity couldn’t be reacted to with anything other than pure joy. that wasn’t something baz thought he could fake. he didn’t know how.

since no words were presenting themselves, he nodded vigorously and, to really sell it, grabbed simon by the back of his neck, pulled him up into an awkward sort of crouch, and kissed him.

baz was vaguely aware of their audience making a celebratory commotion around them, but he focused on the taste of fine wine on simon’s lips and tried steady his thundering pulse. simon’s free hand on the curve of his waist, however, was thwarting every attempt to recompose himself. his entire body felt loud and chaotic, akin to a symphony in which none of the performers knew what they were supposed to be playing.

the worst of it was over now, baz reminded himself. all smooth sailing from here.

by the time they broke apart, baz somehow, miraculously, managed to form a complete thought. “how was that?” he whispered, meeting simon’s gaze.

“perfect,” simon replied in a murmur. he drew back and removed the ring from its place in the box. baz offered his left hand. it was shaking just slightly, and simon took his wrist to steady him. it felt a little like magic when he touched him. dizzying, earth-shaking magic.

as simon slipped the false band onto baz’s ring finger, the cheap plastic snapped right down the center.

it broke.

the ring fucking _broke._

“it doesn’t fit properly,” baz blurted. his mind was working much faster than simon’s, which was apparently still stuck on the fact that _the ring fucking broke._

 _the worst of it was over now._ why did baz believe that for a moment? _smooth sailing._ perhaps simon was starting to rub off on him. the notion was horrifying.

“simon.” baz covered the ring with his opposite hand to conceal the crack. simon still seemed stupefied, which was not helping baz’s attempt at improvisation. “the ring. doesn’t. fit.” a verbal throttling somehow managed to fit between an even tone and a loving smile.

“right,” simon said. he took the ring back, carefully holding it together until it was comfortably back in the box. “right,” he repeated, “i’m sorry, darling.”

something about simon calling him “darling” after proposing, even under false pretenses, was completely and utterly devastating. baz felt fifteen again, swooning over-indulgent fantasies. in fact, he was pretty sure some parts of this _were_ a fantasy of his at some point. although if fifteen-year-old baz had known that when simon snow finally proposed to him, it would be fake, he most likely would have thrown himself out his dorm window.

baz pressed a kiss to simon’s forehead, mouth all smiles against his soft skin. the tension left baz’s body, and in its place there was a breezy sort of giddiness that gave him the absurd urge to _giggle._ “it’s alright, love. i wouldn’t expect you to know my size.” he winked.

simon laughed, his whole frame loosening with it. he too seemed less tense now, which baz was glad to see. he was much more himself. “ew, don’t say that.” simon shoved the ring box hastily into his pocket and clambered back into his seat.

to baz’s relief, no spectators seemed to have noticed their mishap. many of them offered congratulations on the engagement, and from this came a sudden understanding of the appeal of public proposals. the attention was a decided pro amidst a long list of cons.

“i suppose you’re proud of yourself?” he asked simon, whose grin was a kilometer wide.

“very,” he said. “that went a lot better than i expected.”

“really? it was almost a disaster.”

“with our luck, i was ready for much worse. honestly, i was ready for you to reject me as a joke.”

baz blinked. “oh, damn. i didn’t think of that. that would have been funny.”

“baz!”

he held his hands up in surrender. “joking. but if i’m being honest, i almost thought you wouldn’t go through with it.”

“nearly didn’t.” simon’s voice dropped to a murmur. “but i pushed through for the dessert.”

baz rolled his eyes. “your courage is truly remarkable, snow.”

“speaking of which.” simon sat up straighter as a waiter approached with the coveted slice of tiramisu. the man offered his good wishes, which both accepted graciously, and set down the plate between them.

simon pushed it toward baz a couple centimeters, offering him the first bite. the gesture was incredibly thoughtful coming from simon, but baz shook his head. “this is what you’re here for. go on.”

baz watched as simon picked up the small fork the cake had come with, having to press his knuckles to his mouth to keep himself from smiling like a damned fool. watching simon often had this effect on baz, regardless of what simon was doing. it was always either this or some expression of annoyance, though the longer they were together, the less it was of the latter.

simon took a bite. baz had expected his eyes to light up, maybe, or even an exclamation of delight. instead, to baz’s dismay, simon wrinkled his nose.

“you’ve got to be kidding,” baz said incredulously.

“what?”

“you don’t like it, do you?”

“it’s not _bad_ —” simon said, the bite clearly lodged in his cheek so he wouldn’t have to swallow.

“crowley, snow.” baz massaged his forehead with the heels of his palms. “this was literally the entire point, and you don’t like it.”

“how was i to know?”

“i can’t believe this. you eat everything. i once saw you eat a spoonful of butter, and you turn your nose up at this?”

simon pushed the plate toward baz and offered him the fork. “you try it, then.”

baz, with narrowed eyes, took the fork. “you are awful.” he brought a small bite to his mouth, shielding both bite and mouth with his free hand. it wasn’t necessarily that he was shy eating in front of simon anymore, but they were in public, and they had attracted quite a bit of attention, so the gesture had become more of a precautionary habit than anything. “oh,” he said, frowning.

“see? you don’t like it either.”

baz brought his napkin to his mouth to be discreet in disposing of the dry, dense _thing_ in his mouth. “i think you were putting it mildly, snow. this is _terrible_.”

simon rubbed the back of his neck. “i was trying to be nice.”

baz reached across the table and ran a thumb over his cheekbone. “i know this, and i love you for it.”

simon leaned into his touch. his skin was a miracle of warmth against baz’s palm. he was pouting now, and baz was once again subjected to the endearing and appetizing mess that was associating that pout with a puppy. “this was a waste of time, wasn’t it?”

“a bit, yeah.” baz let the fork clink down on the ceramic plate and pushed away the dessert. “next time, we’ll go to a different restaurant.”

simon’s countenance brightened a bit. “we will?”

“obviously. they know our faces now, and i for one wouldn’t want to return to this disaster they call tiramisu.”

“no, i mean,” simon said, hesitated, then continued, “there’ll be a next time?”

“of course. now that we’ve done it once, i am determined to see it to perfection.” baz smiled. “and i had fun.”

simon’s eyes were bright as he took baz’s hand. “me, too,” he said. baz was struck just then, as he often was, with how beautiful he was. this realization hadn’t been a new one for roughly a decade, but it was always something that he felt with his entire being, and it always managed to take him by surprise. baz had once contemplated simon’s beauty while watching him take out the garbage, which had baz questioning if he’d started going soft ever since.

“i’m glad. besides,” baz continued, “i want to see how you’d react if i rejected you.”

simon’s alarmed expression made him laugh. “please don’t.”

baz elected to change the subject, just to watch him squirm. “so, what have we learned today?”

“we learned…” simon had to think about it. baz let the silence sit between them, entertained by watching the gears spin behind his eyes. “not to return to this restaurant?”

“a valiant guess, snow, but no.” baz wiggled the fingers of his left hand. “we learned that the next ring should not be a five pound—”

“seven pound.”

“—piece of shit off amazon.”

simon sighed. “you’re right. that wasn’t my best decision.”

“oh, it’s alright, love. it wasn’t our first mistake, and knowing us, it won’t be our last.”

* * *

their next mistake came sooner and more explosively than anticipated, a consequence of neither of them taking the time to consider the reality of the world they lived in.

as they lay in bed the next evening, simon received a phone call. when he answered, both boys were nearly startled off the bed with the screaming that ensued. she wasn’t on speaker, but baz could still hear penelope very clearly through the phone. “ _you two are getting MARRIED?”_

apparently, someone at the restaurant had caught simon’s faux proposal on video and posted it on the internet. baz wasn’t sure how penny had gotten a hold of the video, but an explanation was the last thing on anyone’s mind. she was very nearly in hysterics, and it took a lot of reassurances from simon (and a lot of uncontrollable laughter from baz, which brought him dangerously close to the edge of the bed for the second time that evening,) to convince her that _no_ , they were not actually getting married.

once simon had explained the concept behind the proposal to penelope, she had, as he once predicted, been a bit distressed over the moral implications of it. (“ _that’s fraudulent, simon.”_ “that’s what i said.”)

their errors, though mortifying in the moment, gave them a list of items to be more mindful of on their next outing. the first was to select a better restaurant. the second was to purchase a less cheap fake ring. the third was to alert penelope beforehand so she wouldn’t have an aneurysm.

the first item was accomplished by baz the next month. he had selected a lovely french restaurant this time around, one that was renowned for its desserts. surely simon was bound to like _something_ that they brought out. the fact that simon was desperately attracted to baz’s french accent, and that baz would have numerous occasions to use it at this restaurant, was merely an added bonus.

the second was simon’s task, and it was a marked improvement compared to the first. this ring, though still ordered from amazon for less than thirty pounds, didn’t appear as poorly made as the last one, and this band was embedded with faux diamonds. (“oh simon, you remembered!”)

the third task practically accomplished itself. when simon had mentioned to penny earlier that day that they were going out to dinner, she had responded, “be sure to invite me to the fake wedding you hold to con presents out of your guests.”

“oh, that’s actually a great idea,” baz had said. “let’s do that next, snow.”

that night had gone much more smoothly than the first. simon had not ripped his proposal from a movie this time, so baz didn’t have the urge to laugh. he even managed to shed a tear or two as he accepted, though he still couldn’t bring himself to say anything. it still seemed that no words quite fit the momentousness of the occasion.

the only hitch of the night was when they found that, _of course,_ this ring didn’t fit. a pity, baz thought. he had been quite keen to wear it for the night. “we really do have bad luck with rings, don’t we?” simon had remarked.

despite the difficulty with the ring, in the end they were rewarded with a crème brûlée that simon nearly drooled over. baz had personally thought it too sweet, but he was rewarded in a different way once they had left the restaurant. namely, with how simon had practically pounced on him as soon as the door of their flat closed behind them. baz was thanking his past self for his little _added bonus_ all night long.

unrelated to the pouncing, baz found that he quite enjoyed the false proposals. he hadn’t been expecting it to last, but there was a certain thrill to it every time simon got down on one knee, a thrill that baz couldn’t get enough of. despite knowing that none of this was real, it still felt as if it was. it was all the thrill with none of the commitment. the fast food of engagements.

simon also seemed to love this little fabrication of theirs. it was a lie small enough that he had no issue with it, and it was one that rewarded him sufficiently enough that he kept an interest in doing it again. and again. and again.

thus, the faux proposals became a monthly tradition. there was some part of baz that inexplicably hated the whole thing. perhaps it was the prideful part that couldn’t believe his attempts at sincere romance had been overshadowed by repeated fallacies. or perhaps it was the part of him that balked at the idea that simon had been the first to establish a tradition in their relationship. simon, who had a capacity for romance the size of the last segment of his pinky finger. simon, whose fake proposals almost always boiled down to a simple _i love you, marry me._ it was rarely even a question with him, though it was always posed that way.

though perhaps baz just didn’t deign to think of it as a question because he always knew what his answer would be.

every succeeding month, simon and baz continued with their proposals, and they got comfortable enough with it that they could afford to experiment. little changes to keep things interesting, keep both the other boy and the audience on their toes. things like simon improvising a crazy backstory to their relationship, (he was shockingly good at improv,) or baz pretending to hesitate before finally agreeing. it became almost like a game between the two, to see who could sell the illusion best.

despite the various alterations they made every time they went out, they kept a few hard and fast rules they always abided by. it was these rules that kept the whole thing from falling apart, mostly derived from past occasions in which it very nearly did fall apart.

rule number one was to never return to the same restaurant twice, lest they be recognized. both thought it would be awfully embarrassing if one of them were to propose and a member of their audience were to think _hey, they look familiar._

rule number two was to never try to wear the ring. after the second ring didn’t fit, there had been a third attempt. and though baz appreciated simon’s effort, the third ring didn’t fit either. they had promptly decided they must be cursed when it came to fake rings, and so there were no further attempts to get a fourth that would fit. (“if i just got _one more—“_ “snow, if you keep trying to get one that’ll fit, i fear you’ll end up spending enough to pay for an actual engagement ring.”) in all future endeavors, they simply made a show of attempting to put on the ring, then baz would make the excuse that it didn’t fit, and back into the box it went. they had this aspect of the charade down to a science.

the final rule was to never let baz do the proposing. ever. this was the only rule that simon had implemented, and he absolutely refused to repeal it, despite baz’s numerous protests.

“it wasn’t _that_ awful,” baz had insisted in the car home after his first (and last) attempt at proposing.

“you’ve literally never been a bigger disaster than you were just now,” simon had replied.

“i was going for an emotional delivery.”

“you nearly forgot my name.”

it was a fair argument. baz had gone into that night with all the confidence in the world. he’d known exactly what he would say, with what tone he would say it, when to take a dramatic pause, when the allow his voice to crack as though weighed down to the point of snapping with emotion. he had meticulously planned every second of it. he had thought that he could handle something so simple as a fake proposal.

then his knee hit the floor, and he realized this _was not simple at all._ as he looked up at simon, all thoughts in his head made way for useless snatches of him. snatches such as the romantic blue of his eyes. the delicate constellations of moles that baz had kissed a million times over. the defined yet gentle slope of his jaw. that one rebellious curl that stuck out just so.

 _yes, i know, he’s gorgeous,_ baz had chided his uncooperative mind, _and now the proposal._

_alright, but consider… that adorable look of surprise he’s wearing right now._

baz considered it. registered and appreciated its adorableness. tried to move on. but his mind, the traitorous bastard, clearly had no interest in providing him with the words he needed. it was a feeling baz wasn’t terribly familiar with, and one he didn’t wish to become too familiar with at any point in the future. he prided himself on his sharp tongue, his ability to always know what to say. it was an essential aspect of magic, and an even more essential aspect of himself. words created him, they built him up, and now, baz had discovered, they could tear him down. or at least their absence could.

when simon did the proposing, baz could afford to be speechless. all that was required of him was a vigorous nod, a tear or two if he could muster them, and an impassioned kiss if he was feeling particularly adventurous. (which he usually was.)

but that night, the spotlight had been entirely on baz. he had the attention of the entire room, and he fumbled it. attention had never been an issue for him before. he usually thrived on it. but right then, faced with proposing to simon snow, it seemed too miraculous and wonderful a thing to be real. he couldn’t seem to remember that it wasn’t. if it wasn’t real, then what was the weight in his hand? what was the adrenaline pounding out a thunderstorm in his veins? what was the anticipation, the anxiety, the desperation that had his lungs in a vise? baz couldn’t begin to fathom the enormity of what he was feeling in that measly minute he was expected to pull out a ring and ask simon to marry him. something so large couldn’t possibly be crammed into such a small cage.

he was somehow able to piece together a proposal that fed on his nerves, but after that night, he decided he was glad to let simon do all the talking. he couldn’t imagine how simon did it, but he did it well. baz’s attempts at protesting simon’s rule were more of an instinctual defense of his pride rather than a genuine desire to try again.

with this healthy balance of improvisation and structure, a year went by. a year of taking risks, of conning free desserts out of romantically inclined waitstaff, and of false confessions of wanting to spend the rest of their lives together. though with every proposal, baz found himself thinking more and more about what the real deal would be like. he had come to accept that he would never be the one to propose. he clearly didn’t have the constitution to pull off such a miracle, so instead he settled for fantasizing about what simon might say if and when the day came. younger baz would have been proud.

soon june came around, and with it came memories of when this whole endeavor had begun a year ago. to celebrate the anniversary of this strange tradition, simon and baz had decided on another outing. since a year had gone by without simon choosing their destination, baz decided that letting him choose this time would be his treat. (“i’m trusting you, snow.” “crowley, you make it sound like the most important thing in the world.”)

baz had had no inkling of what simon had chosen, and so was surprised when, as they left the flat, simon turned away from the garage and started down the street.

“it’s not far,” simon said. “i thought we’d take a walk.”

“how inspired.” baz said it with a tint of sarcasm, as he was inclined to say many things, but he couldn’t help but be impressed as they made a brief detour through a park, brought to life by roses of various colors and washed in a romantic pink hue by the summer sunset.

baz looped his arm through simon’s as they walked, drawing him close against his side. “but really, this is lovely, simon.”

he was rewarded with a radiant grin. “that’s high praise. we haven’t even gotten there yet,” simon said.

“well, don’t get too used to it. i’m feeling especially sappy tonight and so i can imagine i’ll be very liberal with compliments. speaking of which, you look gorgeous.”

simon’s laugh was perhaps one of the best sounds in the world. “why is that?”

“well, your hair, for starters—”

“no, i mean why are you feeling sappy?”

“oh.” baz waved his free hand in a vague gesture. “call it what you like. the novelty of tradition. a general feeling of nostalgia. being in love.”

“i’ll go with the third one.”

upon reaching the restaurant, baz only became more impressed. it was exactly the sort of restaurant he himself would have selected. a hole-in-the-wall, elegant and sophisticated, but in a quaint, understated way. it was a place that seemed to have an intimate knowledge of its aesthetic and what it stood for, a quality that baz admired in any establishment.

“i’ll admit, love,” baz said, unable to help the smile spreading across his face, “my doubts were completely misplaced.”

“so i chose well?” simon sounded quite proud of himself, which baz supposed was justified.

“you did. they have good desserts, i assume?”

“i don’t know, actually. i just chose it because i thought you would like it.”

baz pressed a hand to his heart. “you risked getting a shitty dessert for me? snow, that may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

“surely there’s something more,” simon protested.

“no, this is it.”

simon grumbled incoherently, but he opened the door for him. baz appeased him with a soft kiss on the cheek before stepping inside.

the evening went by so perfectly, baz was almost ready to consider it suspicious. the restaurant was lovely, the wine some of the best he’d ever had, the food criminally good. and, of course, there was simon, who had no right to look as good as he did. baz had to hold himself back from complimenting his appearance every other minute, which was his instinct upon seeing him in that button-up shirt with its rolled-up sleeves that emphasized his forearms so nicely. and that wasn’t even in consideration of those _pants._ baz could have gone on about them for hours, given the chance.

when simon dropped down to one knee before him, baz was sincerely expecting something to go wrong. surely their luck wasn’t this incredible. he had to fight the urge to look around warily, ready for someone to jump out of their seat and cry “ _lies!”_

but no, the proposal went smoothly. more smoothly than it had ever gone before, baz thought. simon’s confidence in his words was ineffable, which had baz slightly stunned, seeing as he had never known simon to be very well-inclined to words. perhaps it was simply due to the past year of practice, but regardless of the reasoning behind it, simon knew with absolute certainty what he was doing, and he was selling it effortlessly.

baz accepted the proposal tearfully and wordlessly, inexplicably able to produce fake tears and yet not words, which still persistently eluded him after a year. however, as he pulled simon in for a kiss, he noticed a slight discrepancy.

well, perhaps _discrepancy_ was too strong a word, but baz couldn’t think what else to call it. the ring looked… different than usual. he couldn’t pinpoint what it was from a simple glance between kisses, but there was a general impression of a more lustrous band, a different arrangement of stones. it was beautiful, but it clearly wasn’t the same ring they’d been using for the past several months.

 _i thought i told him not to get a fourth_ , baz thought in some corner of his mind as they broke the kiss. he dismissed it, however, as they seamlessly executed the charade of trying to slip on the ring to no avail. although now that baz was sure that the ring was new, he would have liked to make a true attempt at putting it on. it was quite a beautiful ring, despite it being fake.

the thought of the ring slipped his mind after the proposal. he had meant to ask simon about it in a hushed voice, but the waitstaff was swift and enthusiastic with the delivery of their free dessert. this time, it was a slice of lemon meringue pie, which both simon and baz agreed was by far the best treat to come out of this scam so far.

it wasn’t until after they left the restaurant and were making their way through the park, stomachs comfortably full and conversation in an easy lull, that the topic of the ring recurred in baz’s mind. it was a quiet evening, made so by the isolated nature of the park. it didn’t feel like london here, lacking the hustle and bustle of a thickly populated city. rather, it was still, peaceful, the air perfumed by the array of roses. the empty paths before them were lit by dim lamps set about seven meters apart. baz couldn’t hear much beyond the distant ambiance of the city, the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes, and the steady, quiet pattern of simon’s breathing. they weren’t touching in any way just then, but baz could feel simon’s presence beside him so acutely and intimately that it almost felt as if they were.

neither had said anything for about a minute or so, though baz had long since come to understand that this was simply a part of how simon functioned these days. not every minute was filled with conversation. in fact, many of them weren’t. but this wasn’t something baz minded. it gave him space to think. it was in this space that baz’s mind returned to the thought of the ring. he remembered how different it looked, and again was curious.

“hey, simon? mind if i ask you something?”

baz could see simon shrug in his peripheral vision. he didn’t say anything in response, which baz found somewhat odd. simon usually responded verbally when baz had a question.

baz paid it no mind, however, and continued. “the ring looked a bit different tonight. did you get a new one?”

still no response from simon. this was odd to the point of being concerning, and so baz turned to look at simon, only to find that he was no longer walking beside him. “simon?” somewhat bewildered by his boyfriend apparently just wandering off, baz turned fully around.

only to find simon on one knee.

baz’s heart slammed to a stop. he wasn’t sure he was breathing.

simon’s smile was small, undeniably nervous. “yeah, i did get a new one.”

“what are you doing?” voice embarrassingly small, on the verge of cracking. definitely wasn’t breathing.

simon visibly swallowed. his hands were white knuckled, clenched firmly around the little velvet box they both had become so familiar with. it was a remarkable change in bearing from before, when he was all confidence and certainty. now, simon looked so nervous he seemed on the verge of being sick. his face was tilted up more than usual, since most of the time when he proposed, baz was seated, and from here the position seemed one of reverence. baz had never considered just how much this whole thing seemed like an expression of worship.

“i’m doing this for real,” simon said. despite his obvious nerves, his voice was clear, steady. like he’d never been surer of anything than he was of this. “baz. every time i’ve looked at you for the past year, i couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. every time i faked it, it felt a little more real.” swallowed. took a breath. continued. “it hasn’t been long, i know. three years seems so small. but i’m just so sure about you. about us. because you chose me, when i couldn’t even choose myself, and you kept choosing me, and that’s all i could ever ask for.” his words wobbled a little now, a newborn thought taking its first few steps into the world. “so… what do you say? will you marry me, baz?”

baz had imagined this moment more times than he would care to admit. he had imagined it many ways. he had imagined saying something beautiful in response, saying anything at all. he had imagined accepting gracefully and refusing to let simon go for the rest of the night.

what he hadn’t imagined was the crying.

what he hadn’t imagined was dropping down to the ground himself and tackling simon with a kiss so fierce, simon toppled back so that he was sitting flat on the gravel, legs splayed out to either side and baz kneeling between them.

what he hadn’t imagined was the uncertainty about whether he was weeping or laughing as he kissed simon again and again, hands clutching simon’s jaw so tightly, he could see his skin beginning to redden beneath baz’s fingers.

“baz—” simon managed between kisses, laughing himself now as he threw out a hand to steady both of them— “baz, crowley, i’m going to fall.”

“simon snow,” baz said in a thick voice, having finally managed to calm himself down enough to speak, “you are the _worst_ person i have ever met.” perhaps not the most eloquent thing he could have said, but dammit, at least he’d said _something_ besides incoherent sobbing. and it was partially true. damn him for springing this on baz when he wasn’t ready for it.

then again, baz couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he would ever really be _ready_ for something like this.

simon looked adorably bewildered at this, and it took everything baz had in him to keep his already fractured composure. “but… you _will_ marry me?”

“of course i will, don’t be ridiculous.” he could no longer hold himself back. he kissed simon again, though this time it was slow and sweet, lacking the frantic nature of the ones he had given him a minute ago. he grounded himself in this kiss, found his center of gravity in the way simon pushed a hand into his hair. he tasted like lemons.

“okay,” simon mumbled into the empty centimeter of space between their lips when baz pulled away to breathe. he sounded dazed, like he had just woken from a wonderful dream into an even more wonderful reality. “good. i was worried for a second there you’d say no.”

now baz could be certain that he was laughing, though he could still feel the cool tear tracks on his cheeks. he rested his forehead against simon’s, pressing his lips together to keep himself under control. then again, that seemed to be a futile effort now, seeing as every part of baz felt delightfully and irredeemably scattered. he thought maybe he’d never feel fully under control again. he thought that maybe he could be okay with that, because _he was going to marry simon snow holy shit._ “i could never say no to you.”

simon’s smile was enough to light up the entire park. he offered up the ring box, finally allowing baz to get a good look at the new ring. a silver band set with real diamonds (finally) along the center. it was simple, it was elegant, and it was completely and utterly _gorgeous._ baz didn’t think he could have chosen something better himself, and the idea that simon knew him this well was nearly enough to reduce him to tears once again. “fourth time’s the charm?” simon asked.

“let’s hope so.” baz offered his hand, and there wasn’t enough magic in the world of mages that could ever replicate the feeling of simon taking his hand and sliding on the ring.

it fit perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, friends!!
> 
> if you'd like to submit a one-word prompt, there are three easy ways to do so! 1) by commenting on this fic. 2) by sending me a dm or an @ on twitter (@pynch__me). 3) by sending one to my curiouscat (pynches_and_pitches). if you want to submit a prompt, please be sure to include a ship as well as a prompt!


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